Monster Party Book 2: Wolves will eat your skin, if you let them in
by James Firecat
Summary: In the frosty domain of Vorostokov survival is the ultimate challenge, and who can be sure how many legs predators travel on?
1. Chapter 1

Author Note: Welcome back and it's worth noting that unlike with the first "book" I'm using a proofreader, so hopefully between the two of us the end result will be even better than the first one!

Monster Party Book 2: Wolves will your skin, if you let them in!

Chapter one: It's another wolf bite, howling in the moonlight!

Half a dozen adventurers sat around the table doing what adventures always did when they were not in the process of risking their lives. Boasting about times when they had risked their lives in the past, and playfully gambling amongst themselves with coins that would remain the group's property no matter who won; at least so long as the serving wench didn't mistake the growing pile of precious metal in the middle of the table for an overly generous tip.

Still, some took the evening's entrainment more seriously than others.

"Cal what is that bottle doing on the table?" Demanded a pale skinned woman with ruby red eyes. Callan "Cal" Wright looked at the bottle, his hand, the pot, then back to the container in question.

"What? My belt is full, so I needed some place else to store it." The alchemist answered nonchalantly.

"Just make sure that the stopper is on it nice and tight. I'd hate to see you waste another perfectly good invisibility potion by accidentally spilling it all over my winning hand." The woman pointed out icily.

The pair might have gone on arguing in this particular vein for quite some time but they were suddenly interrupted.

The howl of a wolf echoed rolled through the tavern as the door swung open and a man stumbled through them. He staggered forward five paces and collapsed before he could seal the tavern against the chill outside.

Even for being out in the middle of winter the man was overdressed given Dementlieu's ever moderate seasons. Instead of only a simple cloak pulled tight against the slight chill he had on thick furs, a hooded cape, and boot made from some kind of animal hide.

Strapped to his back was a pair of broken snow shoes, items that most residents of the genteel and temperate domain were more likely to consider some sort of bizarre sporting good than an article of footwear. Clutched in his hand was a bloodstained hatchet that drew gasps of shock and horror from many of the tavern's occupants.

The adventurers were made of sterner stuff though, and one of them in particular, a lady with strange green tinged skin and hair like straw was almost instantly at his side. Looking up close she saw his face was ghostly white, and he sported a pattern of deep blue wounds surrounded by patches of white frost marks on his throat and arms.

A long flowing beard and drooping mustache framed a swarthy face quite at odds with the generally clean shaven look that was currently in fashion. Even simply pressing a gloved hand to his skin brought feelings of such coldness that the blue eyed woman couldn't help but recoil in shock and pain.

"Frostburn? Who gets frostburn in Dementlieu! It'd be like coming down with a bad case of sunstroke in Lamordia!" The alchemist blustered in amazement as he watched.

The woman who had warned Cal to keep his mixtures away from her cards approached the man with neither shame nor fear.

She was dressed in a masculine white jacket, and navy blue pants with a hat perched atop raven hair that was split down the middle a streak of white she seemed far too young for. Without further ado she promptly began to rifle through the man's heavy outfit seeing if she could find anything of interest.

"Mirri!" Florence Bastien, the group's blond haired expert in plant life barked in disapproval.

Mirri Catwarrior the group's expert on all things undead just shrugged callously.

"Look, he's a stiff in more ways than one, and he's clearly not from around here. If we're going to have any chance of figuring out who should rightfully get his belongings and be informed of his death then we'll need to try and find some clues. A journal would be ideal, but I'll settle for an IOU with his name on it..." She pointed out before going back to her macabre scrounging.

"She kind of a has a point, we can't help him, or whoever is depending on him if we don't know how he is..." Piped up a young male voice from the table.

James Firecat the group's expert in discovering and disarming traps, hadn't abandoned his seat. Like Mirri he wore a hat, though his had such a wide brim that the only way to discern his hair color was to observe him from behind and spot the surprisingly bright red follicles trailing down the back of his neck. Red was obviously James' favorite color for he wore a jacket, pants and pair of boots of the same color.

"We must summon up the gendarmes!" Suggested one of the tavern's native occupants.

"That's not a good idea..." Announced a calm voice.

It belonged to a man with long silver hair; his left eye was green and his right was covered by an eyepatch. He was dressed in a midnight black outfit with a few silver markings designed to break up the outline of a human form when seen in the dark. His name was Alexander Diamondclaw, and he was the group's leader.

"If I left a glass of water outside, it'd be even money weather or not it would be frozen in the morning. The only way that a person could freeze to death would be if magic was involved. If there's an evil mage out there... well it'd be best if we dealt with them." Alexander promised.

The other occupants of the tavern exchanged somewhat worried glances. Then they decided that letting "somebody else" deal with this particular problem was a very good idea indeed.

"Well let's get it over with. As usual I'll be looking after the money till we can get back to it." Announced a blue haired elf named Devi Skye.

She wore a close cut blue dress, and as the group's quartermaster she was in charge of making sure they were always well fed enough that they'd end up dying in battle rather than of starvation or thirst.

So with the money secured they headed out in the darkness.

Except that it wasn't quite as dark as it should have been, no sooner did they step outside then they found themselves presented with a glowing fog bank, one that was so intensely white that it stood out as if it was still midday.

It's almost blinding whiteness forced Mirri to avert her gaze and the others to squint painfully.

"Oh this is bad..." Cal muttered to himself.

Then those who could still look straight ahead suddenly saw an alabaster furred wolf poke its head out of the fog bank glaring malevolently at them.

"Really, really bad. Let's go back inside and maybe it'll be gone in the morning!" He revised.

Not wanting anything at all to do with whatever was about to happen next he did a quick about face and yanked open the tavern's door ready to retreat back to its marginal safety.

Except throwing the doors open didn't reveal the building they had just left, but another rolling cloud of white mist which washed over the six instantly. Darkness and cold swirled about them completely obscuring all sense of direction.

Time seemed to hang suspended in the biting cold the mist brought with it. It could have lasted for only an instant, or it could have been an eternity. Either way as reality or something approximating it at least returned it came with the crunch of cold dry snow under boot.

Cold remained as ever present as it had been before, but now at least it seemed to be a non-supernatural chill, though that was scant comfort to the group. Gone was Dementlieu's mild seasons, they were now being blasted with arctic fury.

Several varieties of evergreens, mostly pine, spruce, and fir stretched on as far as the eye could see. Powdery snow lay over the branches and in deep drifts beneath the boles of the trees, creating a realm of beautiful white and merciless chill.

The position of the sun had shifted, instead of it being night the sky was now only deepening toward twilight. With the dimming of the sun of course came the process of still greater cold.

The adventurers were lucky to have been wearing gloves on principle otherwise their fingers might already have been in the grips of frostbite.

"Cold... way too cold... reminds me of home... and home was always way too f**king cold..." Cal Wright shivered.

"Eh I've had worse, nothing like a little chill the air to really get the blood pumping if you ask me..." Noted Mirri who true to her word did not seem bothered by the temperature in the least despite the fact that she was dressed no more heavily than any of the others.

"Florence?" Alexander needed only one word to get his plan across.

One by one Florence approached each member of the group except for Mirri and placed a hand to their forehead before repeating the process upon herself. As she did so their shivering and foot stamping lessened.

The cold was not diminished but its bite seemed to have lessened. In this case, it was luckily due to druidic magic as opposed to the onset of hypothermia.

"Well, we're not about to freeze to death. Let's see if we can figure out where are, the best way to do that is to probably try and see if we can't find someone else who is native to this place, and hopefully not frozen to death unlike the last one we ran into. Mirri, I don't suppose our mysterious stranger had anything as convenient as a map of his homeland on him?" Alexander asked.

"Sorry Sir, I've still got no idea who he was, where he came from, or where we are. The only thing I'm even close to certain of is that between you, me and my Kitten, I've got a feeling we're not in Dementlieu anymore." She reflected.

"Funny you should mention not having an idea where he came from, because I think I do!" James happily announced.

Heads turned in his direction, and he pointed towards set of tracks left by someone in heavy boots. They came to an abrupt stop just short of were the adventurers had suddenly found themselves.

"Well between standing around until Florence's magic runs out and we start to freeze again, and following those tracks, I vote for following the tracks." Devi advised.

Alexander nodded in agreement and the group set out eager to try and find out just where they were, and if they couldn't find something to help them survive in (or better yet escape from) this frozen wasteland.

End Chapter

Author's notes Chapter one: Sorry for having this opening chapter be so short, the next chapter should be of a more normal length. I just wanted to have things end on the most dramatic/ appropriate moment.

For those who were paying close attention, yes our protagonists started out this story playing the "real life" version of Red Dragon Inn, another excellent party game that I can't recommend highly enough if your friends understand that the Pixie gets it first right out of the gate.

Also as you may have noticed, given my eternal refrain of there is no continuity, THERE IS ONLY THE MISTS I'm starting out this chapter with a refresher on how the characters look to most ordinary people of the Mists. If you find this helpful that's well and good if you find it unnecessary repeating of what we already know, then let me know and I'll work to not include it in any future books.


	2. Chapter 2

Monster Party Book 2: Wolves will eat your skin, if you let them in!

Chapter two: Hey Oo What's the sound?

A group of six of adventurers had suddenly found themselves transported from the only slightly chilly cities of Dementlieu to the frozen wastelands of…well, they weren't exactly sure.

For the moment the only clue they had to go on was a trail of boot-prints left by a man who had been as suddenly taken away from his homeland as its half a dozen newest occupants had been sent there. Luckily they did not have far to go before they managed to find some sign of where exactly he had made camp before striking out for whatever strange rift he had somehow managed to either intentionally open or accidentally fall through.

The air remained, as ever, unnaturally still and clear in the frozen woods. The only sounds were the crackle and rustle of boots in the snow and ragged steaming breaths. Ahead the tracks came to a stop in the middle of a clearing, with scattered packs and gear lying about a seemingly abandoned campsite.

A heap of cold ashes and half burned logs was surrounded by a crude set of sleeping furs and a pair of skis. Obviously whoever had been using this place last hadn't decided to strike out from it intentionally but been driven from it, yet just as clearly it hadn't been picked over by human bandits or scavenging animals.

Alexander snatched up the sleeping furs at once and tossed them to Devi.

"We're going to need these. Also we're going to need any other winter survival gear you have in your bag of holding come nightfall. Florence's magic will help us last through the days but she won't be able to renew it in the middle of the night if she's not sleeping, and if she's not sleeping..." He began.

"Then she can't properly commune with nature and replenish her abilities. We know, we know. It'll be fun to find out what gets us first, exposure, the local wildlife or possibly thirst if water freezes so fast we can't even drink it..." Cal Wright ruminated with all his usual cheer.

Mirri and James began to pick through the packs, him from his general sense of curiosity, her simply because it gave her something more interesting to do than stand and stare at trees and snow.

"I think I found a journal!" James declared triumphantly as he held up a battered book.

He quickly flipped it open to the last page with writing on it out of the principle it would be the most recent and thus most pertinent to the current situation, before gazing at the pages in befuddlement.

"Great, I don't think I've seen this language before..." He muttered dourly. Mirri took the journal form him and examined it with a more studious eye.

"Looks like Balok in cursive form Kitten. Being a lady of some breeding allows me to decipher it." She pointed out a touch smugly.

James crossed his arms and sulked, not so much upset at Mirri as the world in general.

"Cursive? Bah! It's like the way the Dementlieuse take our perfectly good language and screw it all up by making it so fancy nobody can actually saying anything in it..." James Firecat reflected, as ever his own preferences for his homeland's less grandiose approach to the Mordentish language showing.

Mirri, being well aware that having spent over a year adventuring across the Core and beyond had done nothing to dampen James' patriotic spirit, took no offense and just got on with the reading.

She flipped back to the start of the book and began to recite as many passages as had managed to remain intact against the rigors of the elements, with melted snow having managed to dampen many pages to meaningless scrawls.

"This being the journal of Igor Rikorsky begun in the year 1127 of the Patriarch's Calendar. I have chosen to record my journeys in Vorostokov hoping that even if I do not discover a way to escape this cursed land perhaps those who come after will.

I returned to Kirinova to consult with Sergei Ikoviev concerning the location of passes to the north, but discovered that the boyarsky had gathered outside the town. Their presence can only mean trouble and I fear for the folk of the village. The men of Kirinova took up arms against the Boyar and drove him and his boyarsky off refusing to pay his tribute. The Boyar promised to return with more warriors and put the village to the sword.

At Sergei's request I followed the Boyar and his men to Vorostokov looking for an opportunity to spy on their camp. I was able to overhear the Boyar plotting Kirinova's destruction. 'We will have to break Torgov as well,' he said. Could it be that there is another village that rebels against his rule?

They have discovered my eavesdropping but I got away from their camp. The boyarsky shall not rest until they have found me.

I must reach Torgov, to warn them of the Boyar's men. I do not think that I will make it there. The wolves are stalking me, even now I can see their red eyes in the shadows watching me. I may yet escape- a strange fog is rising and it is growing colder. I will try to lose them in the mists..." She concluded before closing the book.

"He started writing in the year 1127?" Florence asked for confirmation.

"Either we've been thrown something like four hundred years into the future, or they use a different calendar then we do." Devi pondered.

"Probably the second. The Mists are known for taking people to many strange lands on a whim, but they typically only take you on a geographic journey, not a temporal one." Alexander reflected.

"Either way, it sounds like we've managed to land ourselves smack dab in the middle of another fine mess." Cal spat bitterly as he checked Phoenix to make sure her metallic components hadn't frozen over.

"There's a map also..." Mirri pointed out holding up a page she had surreptitiously ripped from the journal while doing her reading.

"He was kind enough to mark off where he was on any given day, so we know where we are more or less, but beyond that there's no scale. Also, wherever we are, it seems like it's completely surrounded by mountains on all sides." Mirri pointed out tracing a finger across the map in question as she spoke.

"You know, just once I wish running away from 'our' problems was an option." Cal muttered to himself throwing in an exaggerated shiver for effect.

"I mean, it's always either an island, mountains, clouds of impassable unnavigable mists or something else keeping us locked in until we deal with the darklord du jour. Would it be so horrible to just run away and let someone else deal with these problems for once?" He muttered angrily.

Alexander raced a black gloved hand on the dirty blond's shoulder.

"If we run away we'd never get paid, not to mention get a chance to cart away as much of said darklord's possessions as we can shove into Devi's bag of holding." Alexander reminded Cal, knowing that the way to the alchemist's heart was through his money pouch.

"Yeah there is that, but can the Darklord of some place like this really have enough to make it worth it? It's just snow, snow, snow, snow! There's nothing here but snow, trees, and wind.

Wind that whistles through the threes in a really, really, stupid way. Honestly I don't know why but that sound really makes me want to..." Cal never managed to complete sentence, as he was suddenly struck dead and dumb on his feet.

XXX XXX XXX

It had been all too easy the creature thought to itself as much as it was capable of thinking.

It was rare that it and its mate were able to locate a collection of food this great, six creatures for them to feast upon and none of them aware of the danger its song presented. They had simply poked about the ruined shelter which offered them no protection at all, and now they would never get a chance to move again.

They stood there, their own bodies holding them helpless, paralyzed by its mate's calls. First it would feast and then it would begin to sing so that it's mate could take its turn They would trade off until none of their prey remained alive, and both of them were very, very full.

Deciding to save the best for last the Yeneskyy headed for the smallest of the group, it drifted across the snow looking like nothing more than an animated coat of snow white material, except for a pair of glowing red eyes and hungry mouth. It was now all too ready to drape itself about the creature and crush the life from it.

Such was it plans, right until a pair of white gloved fists suddenly reached out, one seizing either side of the Yeneskyy's body holding it still as it was brought eye to eye with a pair of crimson orbs filled not with hunger, but malevolence.

"You were going to touch my Kitten, weren't you?" A voice demanded.

The Yeneskyy was no more intelligent than a very bright animal and so there was nothing it could say.

"Nobody, touches, my, Kitten.

Anyway, funny story, I'm sure whatever weird mystical musical mumbo jumbo you and your partner are spewing is real impressive. It bet it's specially designed for paralyzing the nervous system, maybe even the demi-human nervous system in particular.

That would be ever so much more important to me if it weren't for the fact my body operates on only three things, my own will, blood, and magic, nerves don't really enter into it. Now then, allow me to show you why Alexander keeps me around." The pale skinned monster promised.

Pain... so much pain... so much... pa...

XXX XXX XX

There was a sound like tearing fabric as one of Mirri's arms pulled up while the other pulled down, with predictable results.

The creature, whatever the hell it was, came apart in her grip like desiccated parchment.

Then she casually stalked through the snowy terrain until she found another creature which was still moaning. It saw her coming and the sound of its moaning changed slightly.

It changed a lot when she grabbed it by the sides and yanked hard just like she had done to the first.

"This is so easy it's barely even fun." She lamented tossing aside the remains of the monster. Then she walked back to her companions who were now shaking off whatever spell the beasts' moaning had woven over them.

"I trust whatever was causing that unnecessary diversion has been dealt with permanently?" Alexander asked with a casual glance in her direction.

If there was one thing that he knew was dependable about the group's vampire it was that she considered bloodlust no vice and mercy no virtue.

"You could say that Sir. I'm still not certain what they were, but being torn in half tends be a pretty serious impairment." She pointed out playfully.

Alas the monsters seemed to be mostly composed more of animated fabric and less of traditional blood and sinews so there hadn't been much for her to feast on.

Either way, now that she had once again proven why undeath was a superior form of existence than traditional life, Mirri was free to return her attention to picking through the dead man's belongings.

"A few days' worth of food for everyone but me and James, two water skins that didn't burst when their contents froze solid, and some basic fire starting supplies. Nothing much to write home about, but something tells me that out here we'll have to be thankful anything we can find." She reflected.

Alexander nodded in agreement as he began to look over what remained of a long scattered fire to see if any of the wood might yet be rekindled.

"The sun is going down, and none of us are going to be familiar with the local constellations. We might as well try to make camp here for the night since we're unlikely to find any place more hospitable in the near future." The group's leader decided.

Almost instantly Mirri dove for Devi's bag of holding. She reached into it, and in an eye water display of magical power she managed to pull a large ornate coffin several times the bag's size out of it. It seemed to have been made from Falkovnian "vigila dimorta" trees, with equally dark leather draped across it.

Engraved upon it in bright gold fabric the words "Rør ikke katten uden en handske".

She lowered the coffin carefully to the ground, flipped open its lid, and crooked a finger in James' direction. With willingness which would have caused most observers to question his mental capabilities James all too readily joined Mirri within the coffin and shut the lid.

The other four, not having a ready-made near air tight and already enchanted to resist the elements shelter (even one of as morbid a nature as Mirri's) at hand, wouldn't have it so easy.

"You can make use of the furs we found, I'll find a way to keep Florence warm if it kills me." Alexander promised without feeling a need to elaborate on how he'd achieve that particular feat.

Cal began to sort through his potions until he located one containing a completely mundane concoction. He emptied it over what remained of the kindling and estimated that the might, just might be enough material there to burn for an hour at most. "I think we're going to need some extra firewood, Florence is it okay if I...?" He began rather hesitantly, knowing that killing tress for firewood was a sensitive subject with the dryad.

She was typically the most serene member of the group, but she was also the subject of Alexander's affections and so it wouldn't do to have her be upset with him.

"How do you plan to get it, beating one of those evergreens down with your rifle butt?" She replied whimsically.

The alchemist threw up his hands in exasperation.

"Fine. Boss, you have a great honking sword that would be perfect for cutting down trees, Boss' Squeeze you give the say so on if it's okay to kill trees or not, the two of you sort out how we can keep a fire burning tonight." He declared decisively.

Alexander and Florence talked for a bit then the silver haired man departed heading for the nearby trees. He returned a short while later, his arms laden down with a great many severed branches. He dumped them at Cal's feet and flashed him a smile.

"Here you go, have fun kids. Mommy and Daddy are going to go find some place private and work on surviving the cold in our own personal way." Alexander offered up while draping an arm across Florence's shoulders.

Cal tossed more logs on the fire and then proceeded to strike the flint and steel they had found casting out sparks. Thanks to the lamp oil that he had previously dumped upon the wood it caught fire all too quickly.

Seeing that he'd managed to get a good fire going Alexander and Florence paradoxically headed away from the camp site to make their own way in the wilderness. Cal watched them go and then sighed heavily.

"You know, growing up in Larmodia I learned a thing or how to survive cold nights. One thing that everyone agreed on the importance of was shared bodily warmth." The Alchemist pointed out with a slight motion of his eyebrows.

"On the other hand, I've learned not to take my clothing off unless I had some place warm to store them. Let's just pull some of those pelts over each other and call it a night." Devi responded.

"Cold sucks, cold sucks, cold sucks, cold sucks, cold sucks, cold sucks..." Cal muttered to himself over and over again as he began to do as Devi suggested.

End Chapter two.

AN Chapter Two: Well that was at least a little bit longer than chapter one.

The monster they run into in this chapter is indeed named Yeneskyy (don't blame me) it's basically a white version of a cloaker, which is a monster that looks like a black cloak.

It also has this to say about their moans...

"The cloaker can also emit a special subsonic moan of increasing intensities. Although this power is blocked by stone or other dense materials, it can be very effective in an open chamber. Cloakers may not moan and bite during the same round. A cloaker may emit one of four types of moan each round. The first intensity of moaning causes unease and numbs the minds of those within 80 feet of the cloaker. The immediate effect of this moan is to cause a -2 penalty to the victims' attack and damage rolls against the cloaker. Further, any creature that is forced to listen to the moan for six consecutive rounds is temporarily forced into a trance that renders it unable to attack or defend itself as long as the moaning continues. "

Wow I'm used to D&D having save or screwed, but that one doesn't even give you save! Of course the key word there is "uses unease and numbs the minds." Mirri being a vampire, thus being undead is (get used to seeing this in the author's comments as frequently as I mention the thing about poisons) completely immune to all mind affecting abilities that aren't designed with undead expressly in mind (basically turn/rebuke undead and probably a handful of necromancy spells out there designed to hold/control undead).

So yeah, there's no reason at all why the cloaker's moan should affect Mirri, though she still decided to initially freeze like the others and "play dead" (easy to do when you don't have to breath) to see what came to try and take advantage of the group and then, well you saw what happened.

Also technically the language they speak in Vorostokov is "Vos" or some language that should be unique to this domain/not show up anywhere else in Ravenloft. That said, I will bring up "Knight of the Black Rose" in which Lord Soth is taken from Krynn to Ravenloft, and there is a distinct lack of him having trouble figuring out the local language. Since I don't recall Death Knights having an innate ability to comprehend languages/speak some universal language, I'm just calling it that Balok is also the "common" that everyone outside Ravenloft proper speaks by some cosmic coincidence.

Also our protagonists can be assumed to at least speak passably every major language in the demi-plane, because "My horse cart is full of eels" is only funny once.


	3. Chapter 3

Monster Party

Book two: Wolves will eat your skin, if you let them in!

Chapter three: Through the chill of winter, running across the frozen lake, hunters are out on his trail, all the odds are against him.

Thanks to the precautions that they'd taken, the group managed to get through the night without freezing to death. It was not the most impressive of achievements that a group of adventurers could possibly boast about, but it was certainly something compared to the alternative.

The sun itself was hazy and weak, but at least it's presence was easy enough to mark their relative position. So long as it still rose in the east and sunk in the west the group could be certain of which way was which.

It turned out that a town named Torgov to the north west was the one closest form of civilization to the last date marked on the mysterious Igor's journal, so they headed out. Hopefully the town's physical location would be roughly equivalent to where the map depicted it, or else the group might end up wandering the frosty forest until they bumped up against the supposedly impassable mountains; which the map suggested completely encircled the land in every possible direction.

They made relatively good time through the snow, though in part this was because none of them were weighed down by any sort of heavy armor. This probably would have left its wearer buried knee deep in the snow with every step they took; assuming they didn't freeze to death inside of it first.

As they traveled throughout the day, however, the howling of wolves was their constant companion; echoing through the woods so that what direction it came form was near impossible to tell.

Its distance was another matter entirely.

"Crap, even I could tell that they're getting close now..." Cal muttered after listening to a howl that he swore actually shook some snow free from a tree branch.

"Boss, you and Florence really know your stuff when it comes to wildlife. Are we dealing with real natural wolves, the kind that by now must have learned the effort expended to gained meat ratios for attacking a bunch of heavily armed demi-humans makes it a decidedly bad idea, or are we dealing with storybook 'my what big teeth you have grandma' wolves? You know, the kind that seem to exist just to attack people even though it doesn't make any sense in the grand scheme of things?" The alchemist desperately wanted to know, and greatly feared that he knew the answer.

Just to be certain, however, he took a moment to fire off Phoenix sending a bullet soaring off into the sky aimed at nothing in particular, but still pointed in the direction the group had come so he would have nothing to fear from it when it eventually came back down.

The sound of his firearm discharging was answered by another loud wolf howl.

"Storybook wolves." Alexander growled.

"You're probably wasting ammo though Cal. Wherever here is, I suspect the wolves haven't heard firearms frequently enough to make them wary of the sound. Not that it matters. Something evil is out there, and its driving the wolves towards us." He reflected as his single green eye began to flicker around their surroundings, looking for a good place for them to make a stand.

Given the generally wild and unfavorable terrain the best he could locate was an open clearing where at least it would be possible for them to see the wolves coming rather than letting the beasts sneak upon them.

No sooner had they taken up position in the middle of it, then suddenly a great black wolf was there at the edge of the woods; watching them through yellow eyes which burned with both hunger and hate. It took a long moment to size them up, and then it turned and abruptly vanished back into the woods just as it pack mates began to dash forwards to attack!

BLAM!

Cal had quickly reloaded after his warning shot and been saving his next round; he wasn't sure what sort of creature the black wolf was, or how effective standard lead bullets might be against it. So instead he waited or a chance to thin the beasts' numbers.

Sure enough his round took one wolf in the leg, deflected off of the bone, and ricocheted up into its body proper. The wolf plunged to the snow ground, clearly no longer a threat to any of them.

That only left the other fifteen of the beasts which seemed to be converging on the group from every direction.

Refusing to let herself be hunted Mirri Catwarrior raced forward to meet the beasts. She had her eyes on three of them that had circled around from the back of the group, and if wolf blood couldn't fill her stomach…well some of life's pleasures had nothing at all to do with keeping your belly full.

As always Mirri's motions remained fluid and graceful to the point that even running full out her feet barely broke the snow's surface.

The first wolf died when she delivered a spinning kick that caved in its skull. The second met its demise as it leaped for Mirri whose gloves suddenly faded away as her hands became jagged talons with which she rent a gaping wound in the animal's throat.

The third however managed to pounce on her back force her to her to the ground. Its own claws dug deep gashes in Mirri's flesh and she screamed in pain and shock; amazed that something as mundane as a wolf could actually hurt her.

Her body promptly began to grow wispy as she allowed herself to dissipate into white mist which floated up into the air and beyond the range of the wolf's claws. The wolf craned its neck upwards to follow as if contemplating leaping after her to try and take a bite out of the mist when suddenly there was a brief stab of pain in its side.

"You hurt Mirri! I normally don't eat other carnivores, but congratulations you just became an exception." Growled James Firecat, who had already buried a pair of his daggers in the wolf's flanks.

The lupine beast answered with a growl of its own and sprang at the adventurer. James leaned back and his body began to change even more swiftly than Mirri's had. A frame that had once been wiry began to bulge with newly grown muscle as crimson fur sprouted across James' body. Clothing was 'sucked in' to his body as his feet spread out into wide not quite paws while his fingernails began to sharpen into not quite claws.

He leap through the air at the wolf... more or less. The beast snapped its jaws at James, but ended up biting only empty air as the newly transformed werecat sailed over its head. Then James took advantage of the fact that though their two forms were of comparable size, his hybrid werecat form allowed him a much greater range of movement.

To pick an example, not particularly at random, the ability to reach out with his arms and grab hold of the wolf's neck as he sailed past. He dragged the beast with him down into the snow forcing it to look away from him as he opened a mouth now full of razor sharp fangs. James' teeth tore at the wolf's throat while he pummeled it with his legs until all traces of life had been driven from its body.

On the other side of the battle, Devi was forced to defend Cal from the wolves while he desperately tried to reload. Deciding to make use of her collection of mystical artifacts rather than her flail, she raised up her hands and lightning bolts flew from her fingertips.

Another of the wolves was struck down by the energy blasts and toppled into the snow. At the same time a trio of the beasts that were dashing forward were opposed by Alexander Diamondclaw and his two handed blade.

"Why am I such a beast?" The silver haired man whispered to himself as the wolves approached.

His sword cut through the chill air with deadly speed. The white snow was soon dyed red with the blood of a pair of wolves, who had both been cleaved like carcasses in an abattoir, Wolf Claw slicing through their flesh with mystical ease.

"Because I will abide none beastlier... none to live who are beastlier than me." Alexander growled to the corpses.

Despite his skill one of the wolves had still managed to slip past him, and it jumped on Cal and bore the alchemist to the ground, just in time to a newly reloaded Phoenix shoved up against its jaw.

"Down Fido!" Cal gasped as he yanked the trigger.

BLAM!

One more wolf carcass dropped to the snow, and a howl seemingly born more of anger than sorrow went up.

Those wolves who still standing began to fall back to the forests they had sprung from; vanishing as quickly as they had come. Mirri drifted back down to the ground and reformed, her clothing had already pulled itself back together over the gashes in her chest, but from her hunched over posture the wounds themselves would take a little longer to sort out.

James Firecat for his part, was suddenly finding his appetite quite diminished as he gazed down at what had become of his dead foe.

"Bastet's Tail Tuft..." He muttered to himself in horror.

"I take back everything I said..." He gasped and then spat, coughed, and half wretched.

Eight beasts had been slain, but there were only seven wolf carcasses to be found.

Instead, at James' feet now lay body of a dead man, naked except for a slightly torn wolf pelt wrapped haphazardly about himself.

"That's why he could hurt me." Mirri realized in shock.

"Where there's one there's going to be more. They're pack hunters, just like us." Alexander warned them as he began to scan the nearby forests clearly expecting to be attacked again at any moment.

Cal began to pry the wolf pelt off of the dead man as gently as he could manage.

"What do you think Boss? Some kind of magical wolf skin? Maybe anybody who wears it turns into one?" He asked, but before waiting for an answer abruptly tossed the pelt across his own shoulders.

His legs buckled, his eyes closed, and a loud howl left the alchemist's lips.

Then his blue eyes flew wide open as Alexander dealt him a firm elbow to his still completely human stomach.

The pelt fell from Cal's shoulders and landed in an unkempt bundle upon the ground.

"You don't even believe that, otherwise you wouldn't have tried to put it on. The magic isn't in the wolf pelt, or at least it's not completely in the wolf pelt..." Alexander Diamondclaw rumbled grimly.

As he spoke Alexander carefully stuck Wolf Claw's non edged side beneath the pelt and lifted it back up from the ground.

"I've never seen this before... but I've heard stories." The silver haired man spoke with a faraway look in his eyes.

"Are they long stories? If so, we might want to start walking. There's no sign of that town yet, and if those wolves attack us again we'll waste even more time holding them off." Devi pointed out, coldly logical as ever.

"As good idea as any..." Alexander admitted as one black glove grabbed hold of the pelt, and the other slid Wolf Claw back into its sheath.

XXX XXX XXX

"I was certain, certain that they were only stories." Alexander began seemingly quite unnerved, though he had none the less draped the bloody wolf pelt across his own shoulders.

"There are all kinds of monsters in the world, that's what my father would tell me. All kinds of monsters, some of them look human, some of them once were human.

Monsters that would steal a child from its cribs and replace it with one of their own, monsters that hate love and live to destroy beauty, monsters that can take the form of something as seemingly harmless as a tree, no offense Florence.

One of the ways that a man could make a monster of himself would be if a hunter would personally slay a wolf, and it had to be done in just the right way. Not with a bow, not with a sword, not with a mace, not with a spear, but with a dagger, one human claw to equal the wolf's many natural ones.

Then, you draw a circle in the dirt with the wolf's blood. Kneel in the center of the circle, skin the wolf and wear its hide as your only garment. You must then feast upon the slain wolf's organs, just as it would have eaten of your flesh should it have slain you.

If you do those things then, well then my boy, you will a make a wolf of yourself!

I always thought that it was just another of his tales, a fanciful way to explain werewolves, because the very first werewolf, the one who wasn't bitten, who wasn't sired by other werewolves had to come from somewhere. In this place... wherever it is... it actually works!

Not only does it work... but people are so desperate that they'd do it! They'd make monsters of themselves!" Alexander gasped.

James coughed rather loudly at this point.

The group's sole red haired member vastly preferred to have lycanthropes considered simply a "morphologically variable" branch of demi-humanity rather than "monsters" for fairly obvious reasons.

"I'm sorry, but this isn't like infected lycanthropes who were normal people who came down with a disease that can make them dangerous to others, like an extra advanced form of white mouth. It isn't like natural lycanthropes either, they're people who are born with a special ability.

You all have heard the tales of sorcerers who can fling around balls of fire before their own balls drop, or end up bringing their own deceased pets back to life as zombies before they even know what 'death' really is.

Natural lycanthropes are no different, other than typically having a vastly more predictable pedigree of course, they're still just people born with powers that others don't have. They may choose to use that power for evil, but men born with strong arms may use them to become brigands.

This though, these are people who were born normal human beings. No longer able to bear the burden of humanity. My father was full of tales about monsters, but the worst ones... they were always the ones who were born as perfectly ordinary people and wanted to become monsters.

No creature can be more evil by nature than one that sets out to do as much evil as possible on purpose."

The group's leader snarled, his own silver hair pricking up in anticipation.

With that 'happy' thought on their minds the group kept trekking on through the snow, and they somehow made it the rest of the day without any further wolf attacks.

XXX XXX XXX

As the group moved ever onwards the night began to close in around them. Along with being almost unnaturally cold, it also became ominously still and quiet.

The forest was flooded with silver moon light, and the only sign of human civilization in sight was a dim orange glow, the light of a single campfire. Alexander didn't even need to give any order, they all agreed without words to move in the direction of that campfire.

Eventually they found a clearing and a campfire crackling before a small lean-to made from pine boughs. A dark haired young man sat before the fire warming a cup of steaming tea. The fellow was wearing buckskin, with a great parka of fur hanging over his shoulders.

He had a sturdy bow and a large battle axe lay close to hand, while he roasted a pair of rabbits on a spit over the fire. He seemed to catch sight of them about the same time as they finally managed to get a good look at his face.

"Well, what do we have here? You're welcome enough to share my fire strangers. It's not like your presence will make the wood burn faster or the flames any less warm for me." The man greeted them.

Cal was only too happy to rush forward and secure a spot for himself close to the fire in question and hold his glove hands out to warm them up as much as possible. The others were did likewise, though with less obvious relish than the alchemist.

As they did so, the man's blue eyes fell upon Alexander. He studied the green eyed man for a very long time before speaking.

"So tell me, what does a Loup De Nuit need with a campfire?" He asked his fingers starting to edge towards his axe.

Alexander gazed at him in confusion for a moment, before recalling the addition he'd made recently to his outfit. He promptly tore the wolf pelt from his shoulders without a second thought.

"Wolf of the night? I guess that must be what you call them. Heh, as good a name as any. I suppose our fathers must have raised us both upon same stories. Either way, I would imagine that one would have no need of a campfire, they'd have fur thick enough to keep out the cold.

I'm as humans as you are though." Alexander promised the man and kicked at the pelt, sliding it across the ground until it came to a rest close to the burning fire.

A few orange specks fled from the burning logs and found a new home upon its gray fur.

"It was my mother who told me the stories." The dark haired man corrected as he watched the pelt start to smolder.

"Either way, I guess you're right. They say each pelt is specially made for each Loup De Nuit, and they can only have one at a time.

That or the one you're burning is a fake and you have your real one hidden elsewhere." The man suggested sounding as if didn't especially believe his own words.

"Search me." Alexander offered holding out his empty hands to the man.

"If you manage to find another wolf pelt on me I'll be as surprised as you are. I was only carrying that one because I didn't believe in something as simple as a sword to destroy such evil magic. No, purification by flames that was what it needed." Sure enough as Alexander spoke the few flickering embers were growing ever brighter and more numerous as they danced about the wolf pelt.

"A good thing for me, you have the look about you of companions who hold no secrets from one another. If one you were a monster, then so must be all the others, and that'd leave me in the sorry state of being the only one voting for rabbit when it came to ask what was for dinner. My name is Micheal Zolnik, what would yours be?" Mikhail introduced himself.

"Alexander Diamondclaw." Alexander answered.

Both men clearly finding the other's title strange upon the tongue took a moment to consider before continuing the conversation.

"I suppose it's a shame that we don't have a Loup Du Nuit with us, two rabbits aren't much of a meal for one man, sharing them among seven different people will require some clever planning. I don't suppose you have much you food of your own to share?" Mikhail sounded good natured enough about sharing what little he had, like a man who had never known plenty in his entire life.

"James, go see if you can't find something to eat, something big enough for us to share." Alexander instructed his red haired companion.

Almost instantly James' left hand rose to his brow in salute, and he stood up shaking a few fresh flakes of snow from his outfit.

"If it's all the same to you, Sir, I'll go with him. Best to travel in pairs after all. Besides, you know how I like to watch my Kitten hunt." Mirri pointed out rising as well.

Alexander acknowledged her comments with a simple nod though Mikhail watched their departure with a bit more skepticism.

"Well, I'll wish them luck, but the forests haven't exactly be in a giving mood today. On nights like tonight I wonder if ever the wolves don't have trouble keeping fed." Mikhail reflected whimsically.

"Winter sucks, it's the same everywhere. By the way, what part of winter are we in exactly? How long is it until spring?" Cal wanted to know; worried that the group might have to make themselves at home in this frosty domain for quite a while, and hoping that things got at least marginally more hospitable as days grew longer.

"Spring?" Mikhail shook his head of dark hair slowly, the look in his eyes suggesting that he didn't know if he wanted to laugh or cry.

"In Vorostokov 'spring' is as much a legend as the Loup Du Nuit . Well my mother claimed that she once knew 'spring', 'summer', and 'fall' while tales of Loup Du Nuit normally end up dealing with a friend of a passing acquaintance of someone's fifth cousin thrice removed, but in all my life there has been not one day of spring." He informed them in the voice of a man who suffering had made old before his time.

Cal scooted even closer to the fire as if contemplating tossing himself into its flames so great was his desire for warmth.

"You mean it's like this all day long, day after day, month after month, year after year?" He paused for a moment and suddenly threw back his head letting loose with hollow laughter. "Oh I get it! It's what they'd call a feeshka in Kartakass, a 'little lie' you're making fun of me because I'm new! Ha-ha it is to laugh..." He muttered in irritation.

Then he saw the look in Mikhail's eyes and knew that it was no jest. To that look he could respond with only one single word. "F**k!"

End chapter three.

AN: When Alex talks about "White Mouth" he's actually referencing the disease we know today as rabies. A disease known for being passed by animal bites, and ends up causing increased aggression in those who come down with it, so the comparison to lycanthropy isn't completely uncalled for...

As of this chapter I'm officially calling it, having read the Van Richten's Arsenal (Vol 1 though there's also only one volume out at the moment) James has taken the "Smitten" feat targeting Mirri.

For those wondering "Smitten" works like this.

Smitten [General]

You are truly and deeply in love, in the purest storybook sense. Your love is not necessarily requited, but acts as a source of strength and purpose, for you would cross oceans and move mountains to protect your beloved.

Benefit: Select a humanoid creature, or any creature that at least appears humanoid. That individual is your beloved. When your beloved is within your line of sight you receive a +1 moral bonus to attack rolls and saving throws. If your beloved is threatened by physical or magical harm, including mental attacks or control this bonus rises to +2. If your beloved is reduced to 0 hit points or below in your presence you must make a Horror save (DC 20). If your beloved dies or is revealed to be a supernatural creature (such as a lycanthrope or vampire), you must make a Madness save (DC 20)  
>Special: You cannot take this feat more than once, even if your beloved dies. This feat has no benefit after your beloved dies, and cannot be replaced with another feat.<p>

The only addition I'd make is that in James and Mirri's case the bit about being revealed as a supernatural creature doesn't count since he knew she was a vampire when he took the feat and was cool with it, (the fact that he's not exactly a normal human either probably helped).

Also some of you may notice a contradiction between Alex's "No creature can be more evil by nature than one that sets out to do as much evil as possible on purpose." and what James had to say on the subject of no one setting out to do/be evil in the last book. This is intentional/reflects each characters own view of how they see the world rather than trying to clearly state is that one is right and the other is wrong.

Oh yes the name of the monsters involved in this story has been changed slightly for reasons I will explain later.


	4. Chapter 4

Monster Party Book 2: Wolves will eat your skin, if you let them in!

Chapter four: It's always winter but never Christmas.

"So tell me travelers, where are you from and what is 'spring' actually like?" Asked Mikhail Zolnik as examined his four remaining guests a bit more closely.

"It's warmer, tree leaves turn green again, though given that your land seems to only have evergreens for vegetation you might not even know what a 'leaf' is or how they normally turn brown in fall." Florence Bastien answered.

"It's when the ground starts to thaw so crazy old man _Mordenheim_ can try and dig up all the corpses that haven't had a chance to rot properly yet." Cal added, somehow managing to sound almost sentimental about the prospect of mass graveyard desecration taking place.

Alexander quickly rejoined the conversation not wanting it to drift too much further off topic.

"You said that this land is named Vorostokov. I don't think I've ever heard that name before, are you part of the Core or one of the islands?" He wanted to know.

"The Core?" Mikhail repeated the word, clearly finding it an even more alien concept than 'spring' all things considered.

"So you're not part of the Core, yet you can speak passable Balok... that's convenient." Devi Skye reflected.

Alexander shrugged not interested in dissecting unlikely linguistic overlaps.

"Let's not turn up our noses at whatever the small gifts the Mists feel like giving us. If you spoke a language unique to Vorostokov then we'd be reduced to communicating by drawing pictures in the snow. I was never very good at that sort of thing, and it'd be rather tricky to convey 'no, I am not a werewolf' quickly that way." Alexander pointed out.

Mikhail chuckled at the dark humor of his words.

"A fair enough sentiment. It's a shame that my homeland doesn't have more in the way of splendors for me to offer you. Alas, we seem to have an excess of only two things; snow is one and wolves are the other." The hunter admitted openly.

"For what it's worth, my homeland is known for only having an excess for snow, and so many insane artificers of one form or another that those of us who actually produce something useful can't make our voices heard above the din of those who are determined to 'show them all' because 'the fools dared call me mad!'" Cal commiserated.

"Perhaps you could tell us a little more about Vorostokov?" Alexander interjected once again trying to bring the topic back around to a useful subject.

"Say for example, do you have any local legends about travelers from a distant land who are supposed to show up one day and right great wrongs, or slay great evils? If there's some ancient prophecy supposedly at work, I'd prefer to be made aware of it as soon as possible." He inquired.

Mikhail shook his head.

"There is nothing grand about Vorostokov. I come from the village of Torgov which is not very far from this camp, only a day's march or so. I have visited the villages of Voronina, Kirinova, Nordvik and Vorostokov, the largest village in the land and for which the land is named. It is also where the Boyar has built his hall..." Mikhail didn't spit after he said that last sentence, but he gave the impression that if preserving fluids and keeping the fire going weren't so important to him he would have.

"The Boyar?" Cal was unable to avoid noticing their new acquaintance's tone and he had a distinct feeling that he he'd heard this particular tune before.

"Let me guess, he's an evil man who rules with an iron fist, and is even harsher than the weather of this miserable patch of... well I'd call it dirt, but honestly right now I'm not even sure if you have any good honest dirt hiding underneath all this stupid snow..." He guessed.

Mikhail's eyes flickered in surprise for a moment but he recovered quickly enough.

"With a tongue like that you might pass for a native though your clothing clearly proves otherwise. The Boyar, Gregor Zolnik is surely enough an evil man, and his warriors, the boyarsky, enforce a reign of terror over the other villages.

They demand a tax, not one of coin, but in the true treasure of Vorostokov: food. They cart it back to the Boyar's hall for him to distribute to his followers. They eat heartily while the rest of us can barely avoid starvation.

My village refused to send tribute when the boyarsky came last week, and I fear the Boyar himself will soon try to either extract his blood money or spill our blood." Mikhail warned them.

"Let me guess, Zolnik is the equivalent of 'Smith' in Vorostokov, I bet there are at least three of them in every village." Cal noted sardonically.

Mikhail shook his head sorrowfully however.

"Yes, I share Gregor's surname, because the Boyar is my father. When I was sixteen years old and visiting my mother's family in Torgov, my mother Sasha perished. My father's messenger said she had been chased into a ravine by wolves, and fell to her death. If Gregor who has the audacity to call himself the greatest hunter in all of Vorostokov cannot protect his own wife from the wolves, it was all the proof I needed that he was nothing but a bully and braggart. That is why I decided to spend the rest of my life in Torgov." Mikhail explained.

"The town that is about to be invaded. I don't suppose that little detail has anything to do with how forthcoming with both facts and provisions you're being at the moment?" Cal contemplated.

Mikhail's face flushed and he looked away.

"I am not just any resident of Torgov. I am its marshkovik, the leader of the village militia, such as they are. If it comes to open combat, the boyarsky will slaughter my men with ease.

I have heard tales that were other villages which might stand against my father's reign. If only we were able to band together, rather than letting him pick us off one by one..." Mikhail despaired.

"Does the name Igor Rikorsky mean anything to you?" Devi pressed.

"I know of him but do not know him personally. He was a hunter from Kirinova, and respected by many people of the land. How did you come to know of his name?" Their new friend wanted to know.

Alexander quickly gave a somewhat abridged version of how the frozen hunter's arrival had heralded their own journey to Vorostokov while Mikhail listened with rapt attention.

"It was rumored he was going to try to find other lands to ask for help. I thought that meant brave the mountains, but if he found some kind of portal, even a temporary one, well for better or worse you are all the 'help' Vorostokov is likely to get any time soon.

I think fate must have wanted us to meet. If Torgov had but a few more warriors, real warriors, not men who are only used to pitting their skills against beasts we would have a chance to turn back the boyarsky. It would mean salvation for my village, and a black eye for my father's cronies the likes of which he would not soon forget! If not, if you will not help, I will not let fear alone be enough to slay me as it was for my mother." Mikhail ruminated darkly.

"Even with the odds against you, you're still determined to fight on?" Alexander asked while raising an eyebrow.

Mikhail bristled in annoyance at the silver haired man's needling.

"Odds? What are odds in Vorostokov? I've already defeated the odds simply by living as long as I have without succumbing to cold, starvation, or illness. Having prevailed against the odds of nature, I refuse to be cowed by the odds of men." The hunter promised them.

Alexander reached across the campfire and took the other man's gloved hands in his own.

"I can be certain of why the cold has not taken you at least. How can you be chilled with such a burning passion within?" Alexander praised the other man.

"Passion is a fine thing, but a full belly, a heavy cloak, and a warm fire are better still. If you hold on till we reach Torgov and can best the boyar's men I will see to it that proper survival gear is the least of your rewards." He promised them.

"Speaking of a full belly, who wants food?" James Firecat announced happily as he and Mirri returned from their outing.

A moment later the pair tossed a deer onto the snow before Mikhail. The beast must have put up quite a fight for in addition to a ragged gash in the creature's throat there were other smaller wounds all over its body, including a few chunks of flesh torn from the stomach.

Yet if it had fought back, it had done so with little luck for neither James nor Mirri bore the markings of any recently suffered blows.

"Sorry for the delay. It had a fawn with it, Mirri and I alone couldn't carry both though so we decided to eat it as best we could before bringing the main course back for the rest of you." He explained.

Mikhail's eyes bulged at the sight of the slain deer, then he threw his head back and laughed.

"Splendidly done! If you fight as well as you hunt then my father will be in for a most unpleasant surprise that is a certainty!" He congratulated them before starting to skin the deer.

XXX XXX XXX

Mikhail shared his lean-to with the group, though the group wisely promised that in return for him having built the tiny encampment in the first place they would take care of guarding the fire all night and let him sleep.

James and Mirri took the first shift, and spending the rest of the night of Mirri's coffin once their new friend was safely asleep. Alexander and Florence took the next one, and Cal and Devi the last, awakening James and Mirri and being careful to once again hide her coffin within Devi's bag of holding before awakening Mikhail.

There was still enough deer left over to provide some meat with breakfast (if there was one good thing about Vorostokov's weather it was that food took it sweet time about spoiling) before heading out for the hunter's village.

XXX XXX XXX

Sadly much like Mikhail had predicted the trek to Torgov took almost the entire day, though either because of the events the day before or the presence of a native hunter among their ranks the group was left unmolested by the local wildlife.

Thus, twilight was just starting to fade as they arrived at Torgov.

Mikhail's home turned out to be a tiny little hamlet nestled in the shadow of a barren, snowy hill. Many small cabins sat in a circle in the center of the village, with small farmhouses and workshops scattered around the general area.

Farmland covered by a blanket of snow surrounded the sleepy village, its livestock pens and granaries almost empty. Mikhail led them to one small cabin in particular, stomping the snow off his boots and shaking the ice free from his parka before entering.

Inside warm firelight filed a cozy taproom not so truly different from the tavern they'd been staying at in Dementlieu before all of this started. A handful of villagers were drinking hot tea or hard cider while wearing somber expressions.

The arrival of their guide seemed to lift the dour mood of the place at least a little though as Mikhail was greeted with warm smiles and handshakes. The six adventurers on the other hand were given looks as frosty as the ground outside. Eager to avoid a misunderstanding, Mikhail was quick to start introductions.

"Anna, Pyotr, Kerin, these people are not some random strangers, they are friends of Torgov. They are not of our land, but they have no great love of tyranny and thus are far from friends of the Boyar. Bring cider, bread and blankets for them, they will tell you their tale better than I can..." He advised.

One of the occupants of the tavern, a grizzled older man looked the newest arrival up and down and scowled.

"How did they manage to make it back to the village upright in the first place Mikhail? Dressed the way they are, the cold should have claimed them soon enough." The man grumbled.

Florence stepped forward and curtsied low in a show of deference.

"That was my doing. I know a few minor cantrips for keeping the chill of winter at bay. I never expect to need them so badly but with the aid of Gaia I managed." She explained.

The open talk of magic sent another chill through the air and the same man snorted derisively into his drink.

"I don't suppose you would also happen to know a spell that would wish away Gregor and all the boyarsky he'll bring with him to the village tomorrow?" He morosely pondered.

"That will probably prove to be beyond my skills." Florence admitted.

The man grumbled a few inaudible words and words and went back to his drink. One of the taverns occupants besides their guide surprisingly came to the defense of the newcomers.

"You know Pyotr Bolshoi I don't think anyone has ever worked at hard as finding something to be upset about as you! Some magic is a great deal better than none and any magic is hard enough to come by!" Exclaimed a woman with dark hair and deep blue eyes.

She wore a long dress that actually seemed to be composed of several different articles of clothing carefully mended together to better keep out the chill. Mikhail gratefully took this woman's hands in his own.

"There is no magic in all of Vorostokov greater than the way your eyes bring warmth to my heart Anna." He praised her before pulling her into a tight hug.

"Do your new 'friends' have any way to pay for the rooms and food they'll be needing?" Asked an older woman whose black hair was starting to go gray in places.

"How much would it be per night?" Devi asked as she began to reach into her bag of holding, more than ready to solve this particular problem by throwing money at it.

As if realizing what the elf had in mind the woman shook her head.

"Vorostokov is big enough that coins are worth something, but out here we prefer to trade things more intrinsically worthwhile. Extra weapons, boots, cloaks, capes that sort of thing." She explained.

"James pay the woman." Alexander commanded without a moment's hesitation. James nodded and then did exactly that, reaching into the pockets of his red jacket and flipping a few daggers onto the counter before her. Most of them were simple (if well crafted) steel but one had a blade which gleamed brilliant silver.

"Will that be enough or do you need a few more?" He blithely inquired.

The older woman's eyes flickered slightly as she eyed that silver blade, but before she could say anything else Anna cut her off.

"That's more than enough to pay for your rooms, and I'm sure my aunt Greta would agree. I'll go see about getting your rooms prepared in fact." She promised them, giving Mikhail one last kiss before departing.

Mikhail returned his gaze slowly to Alexander, his swarthy features failing to hide his blush.

"Anna and I are engaged." He admitted, explaining her obvious affection for him.

"Hey, so long as she could provide us with some place warm to hang our clothes I wouldn't care if she was the village..." Cal began and then ended up stopping when Devi and Florence elbowed him in the chest from either side in near perfect coordination.

End Chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Monster Party Book two: Wolves will eat your skin, if you let them in!

Chapter Five: A hunter is switching his prey...

Mikhail Zolnik awoke and at once he knew something was wrong. He was not sure what, but all the same he knew that something terrible awaited Torgov. It was not the first time in his life he had been struck by such feelings either.

It was nothing so dramatic as a magical premonition; simply that a lifetime of hunting for food and avoiding behind hunted by Vorostokov's other predators had given him a gut that could sense trouble coming well before his brain even had a chance. He slowly extricated himself from the pile of furs he had been sharing with Anna giving her one last kiss on the cheek (careful to keep it light enough not to wake her) then began to go about dressing himself in his heavy winter outfit and snow shoes; loading himself down still further with armor and weapons as well.

That task completed he headed out of the inn, though not quite as silently as he would have wished.

"Where are you going?" A voice asked him innocently.

Mikhail turned and to his surprise found that the youngest (though sharpest eared and keenest eyed) member of the villages Militia, Kerin was likewise up and fully dressed, bow in hand and a quiver of arrows slung over his back.

The dark haired youth's green eyes shown as brightly as ever and Mikhail reluctantly motioned for him to come along.

"It is nothing important, I just felt the need for a brisk morning walk around the village, you may come along if you wish." He answered, wondering if he was truly trying to deceive the lad or himself.

Either way, the pair headed out into the frosty morning air, as ever both of their breath transformed into puffs of ghostly mist the moment they stepped outside. Mikhail headed out in the direction that his instincts told him to go and Kerin followed closely behind.

XXX XXX XXX

Mikhail had been traveling through the snow for what felt like the longest, most tiring, most bone chilling ten minutes of his life. Every single rational reasonable part of his mind told him that he should turn back to Torgov before either he or Kerin end up losing more than just their time.

Just as he finally came to a stop and was about to give the order to turn around, three figures emerged from swirling snow. Three figures who he recognized instantly: a wiry man armed with a great battle axe, Dmitri Dneprov, a slender youth in a fur cape alongside a stocky board shouldered man with a bushy beard whose own cape was embroidered with jewelry, his older brother Alexi, and his father Gregor Zolnik.

It seemed as if due to the snow both parties ended up blundering into one another at the exact same moment and his father's blue eyes filled with wicked glee.

"Well what do we have here? Has my wayward son finally seen the error of his ways and realized that I only wish what is best for Vorostokov?" Gregor rumbled, already fingering his bastard sword all the same.

Mikhail's body stiffened still further as his eyes began to roam wondering if still more of his father's boyarsky would show themselves at any moment.

"You may wish what is best for the village of Vorostokov, but not our entire land! The people of Torgov have little enough as it is, I will not let you take it from them just so that your own followers gorge themselves into a state of idiocy where they cease to care where the food they eat comes from." Mikhail insisted, starting to finger his axe as well.

The Boyar of Vorostokov's blade cleared its scabbard with wicked speed as he stomped towards Mikhail his face alight with fury.

"If you are such a fool, best to keep your tongue between your teeth! You know nothing of Vorostokov, the hunting and farming there is worse than anywhere else. You see Mikhail, just like you I refuse to let my people starve, and will do anything within my power to ensure their survival." Gregor insisted.

"Except that for me 'anything' means risking my life to defend what we have, and for you it means strong-arming others into providing what you could not secure yourself. Maybe if more of Vorostokov's residents spent their time searching for game or tending crops and less menacing the other villages your people would suffer less father." Mikhail spat derisively.

The snow crunched underneath Gregor's boots as he began to stalk towards the marshkovik of Torgov.

"I am tired of listening to you defame a lifetime I have spent in service to the people of Vorostokov. Make your choice, die here upon my blade, or upon those of my men who will be ransacking your village in a few minutes. If you're fast enough you might actually be able to get there before them." Gregor chuckled darkly.

Mikhail put his back to his father and gave a simple one word order to Kerin.

"RUN!"

XXX XXX XXX

Mikhail ran as fast as his legs would take him, but it still didn't feel fast enough.

It was hard to fight back an obscenity every time one of his legs came down upon the snow with just a touch too much force and he ended up needing to waste precious time winning his freedom from his its icy grip.

Even if he had been a wolf running on four sure footed paws it still wouldn't have felt like he was moving fast enough though. How many people of his village would end up paying the price for his foolishness? He was their marshkovik, what had possessed him to go gallivanting about in the snow on the eve of the village being attacked?

Blinking flecks of snow from his eyes tried to shield his face and continue onwards all the same.

XXX XXX XXX

Despite the manic pace with which Mikhail drove himself onwards, he still was not fast enough to reach Torgov with time to spare.

The boyarsky were just beginning their assault from the south when he came racing back into the village from the opposite direction.

"To me! To me!" He cried out in desperation, hoping that the people of Torgov would be willing to rally around him as he waved his axe dramatically.

Already some of the citizens were trying to resist the boyarsky with whatever weapons (if you could even call them weapons) they could find: pitchforks, hammers, hatchets and hunting bows were all being used to try and protect the village

The citizens of Torgov were fighting with a dreadful urgency, many of Gregor's men were armed with a short sword in one hand, and a lit torch in the other. They clearly intended to burn the entire village to the ground before they were done.

He charged one of those men, hoping that he could provide an example for all those who continued to fight. His axe came down and the short sword came up to block it.

Mikhail had two arms around his axe, his foe only one on his sword. That was why he managed to knock the blade down into the snow and then deal the bearded boyarsky a mortal blow to the throat.

He fell to the snow and his torch began to splutter and die.

Yet that victory was a small pathetic thing next to the way the other fallen man's companions were continuing to push further and further into Torgov, slaying at least three of the villagers for every one of their own number who went down.

If things kept up at this rate, then Gregor would have his vengeance on Torgov without even needing to get personally involved in the battle.

Suddenly there was a sound that broke through even the chaos of the battlefield, a sound that every man, woman, and child of Vorostokov knew right down to their bones; the howl of a wolf.

The door to Greta's inn slammed open, and Alexander Diamondclaw emerged. His two handed sword already drawn, and without a moment's hesitation he charged forward into the fray.

A cloud of mist hung about him as he moved, making it hard to tell exactly where he stood, even though he was less than twenty feet away from Mikhail. Traveling in his wake was a …. what in the name of the lost seasons was that thing exactly?

It was roughly the right size for a wolf, but it's fur was a blazing red, its tail was all wrong, even its posture was likewise mismatched.

It couldn't be a wolf, but if it wasn't then what had made that howling noise? Either way Alexander and his strange pet advanced and a bank of mist went with him, combined with the natural snowfall he was all but invisible.

A moment later three boyarsky emerged from the mist and charged Mikhail who brought his axe up, ready to give ground to avoid being overwhelmed.

BLAM!

Mikhail's ears rung like someone had stuck a pot over his head and then smashed it with a hammer.

As bad as it was for his ears, it was worse for the boyarsky, even his well-made armor offered him no more protection from this attack than it did from the cold, as suddenly a bright red wound erupted upon his chest. A moment later he fell lifeless to the the snow.

The other two kept coming, and a long flail lashed out and wrapped around the blade of one boyarsky.

While he struggled to work it free Mikhail darted in and got to work with his axe, delivering another swift death.

The last one tried to take advantage of Mikhail's own temporary distraction his was easily checked by a seemingly ordinary wooden staff in the arms of a woman in green. The two dueled back and forth seemingly to be equally matched, and when Mikhail intervened on the blond haired woman's behalf the conclusion was obvious.

Only as he finished yanking his axe from the third boyarsky he had slain that day did Mikhail suddenly notice that the noises which filled his ears had changed.

The battle was no less loud, but the nature of the sounds were no longer those of men betting pitted against one another in combat. Instead, they were sounds of men trying desperately to survive as predators pressed in upon them.

There were howls, growls, and most of all there were screams of pain. How could one animal make so much noise? It was as if there was an entire pack's worth of wolves inside that strange fog!

Then with one last ugly unpleasant wet gurgle the sounds terminated.

A few moments later Alexander Diamondclaw walked out of the mist, blade sheathed, his single visible eye wide with shock.

"Mikhail you would not believe what I have just seen! I managed to take down one of them, just one, and then it happened. There were wolves in that mist! Huge white wolves made out of the mist itself! I saw one just like it before we were brought here, but this time there was a pack of them! They started grabbing boyarsky left and right! By some miracle they ignored me, and well..." Alexander trailed off.

The fog cleared, there was no sign of the strange creature that had accompanied Alexander when he'd left the inn. There was plenty of sign of the boyarsky though, just like Alexander had said, there was one body that had been killed by a simple clean sword stroke... beyond that one man however all the others looked as though they had been rent to shreds by beasts.

"Wolves made of mist?" Mikhail repeated, part of him unable to believe that some unknowable force should so blatantly interfere in Torgov's favor, another part angrily shaming him for questioning that which had saved his village from destruction.

Whatever the reason, whatever the source, there could be no doubting what had just happened. The force of boyarsky that had had rushed to attack into that strange mist had been horrifically mutilated, those that still lived retreated as quickly as they could fearing that the mists would return.

An exhausted cheer began to go up among the people of Torgov as it seemed that they would not be forced die upon the blades of the boyarsky or at the chill hands of winter after all.

"Do you seriously believe that this will make a difference?" A rough voiced boomed out from behind Mikhail.

It seemed that Gregor Zolnik himself had arrived just in time to witness the destruction of the force he had brought with him to attack Torgov.

"I will simply return to Vorostokov, and gather even more of my men. Those you slew today were new to my service, next time I will bring my elite with me. Surrender now and I will spare your village, but if you force me to return there will not be two unburnt twigs in all of Torgov!" He promised them.

Mikhail came forward to face his Gregor once more.

"Go back to Vorostokov then! We have seen your mercy, father! We will die free rather beneath your heel." He promised.

"You will need more than half a dozen outland allies and luck to save you when next we meet Mikhail. I've let you be for far too long..." Gregor promised before turning his back on Torgov.

The village's occupants were so worn out by the battle that no one thought to try and chase him.

BLAM!

Cal Wright fired off a round from Phoenix and it was just barely possible to see Gregor suddenly stagger through the heavily falling snow.

It was impossible to tell where he had been struck or how seriously he had been injured. Either way Mikhail had something more important on his mind, soon enough the movements of others and the fall of fresh snow would destroy all traces of the battle that had just taken place, so he had to act fast.

He frantically threw himself to the ground so as to get a better look at what remained of the tracks that Alexander had left behind as he'd gone forward into battle. They were accompanied by something moving on all fours, but they just couldn't be wolf tracks!

Just to start with, there were no claws marks in the snow, and, it seemed that the pad left too many imprints on the snow, was the beast some strange poly-dactyl rarity?

The prints weren't even evenly matched! The front ones were almost right, but the back had elongated pads closer to human footprints than anything else. Loup De Nuit should leave either human or lupine tracks in their wake... were these the marks of some creature that somehow fell between the two?

"If you're trying to make a snow angel you're not doing a very good job of it. I'd have thought somebody who grew up where it was always winter would know better!" Pointed out a playful voice from above.

Mikhail who felt he had gleaned all he possibly could from those strange tracks slowly rose to his feet and shook his head as he gazed at James Firecat.

"No... just, trying to make sense of the strange mist born miracle which has spared my village, for the moment at least." He explained. Shaking as much snow form his outfit as he could and putting the strange marks to his back Mikhail headed once more for Greta's inn, whatever would come next, that would be the place it would be decided.

XXX XXX XXX

Mikhail Zolnik slowly read over the journal pages that his new companions had discovered shortly after they had been brought to his homeland.

They were now even more worn than they had been a few days ago, but as Mikhail was more familiar with the flourishes of his language he could make a fair amount of sense from the wall the same.

"I wish I could say I knew Igor Rikorsky well enough to properly morn his passing, but for the moment I can only focus on the slim glimmer of hope that his journal tells us. If what he has written here is true not only has Kirinova risen against my father, but they managed to drive off his first attack just as we of Torgov have.

Whatever my boasts my father may care to make, he can't afford to keep throwing his boyarsky away on battles that achieve nothing but turning snow red. For the moment at least Torgov is safe, it is a week's journey back to Vorostokov, so it will be a full fortnight before he could possibly try to make god on his boasts.

Kirinova is five days march however, it is possible we could visit it, and still return ahead of him. If still more people of this land are rising against Gregor then I must do all I can to let them know that they do not do so alone..." Mikhail reflected.

Luckily his new companions were willing to abide by his habit of frequently thinking out important matters aloud. Mikhail often found it was one thing to simply ponder a thought, to voice it aloud gave flesh and bones to what would otherwise be insubstantial.

"I think it would be best if you came with me. There is safety in numbers, not to mention it was Igor's arrival in your lands which prefaced your own journey to Vorostokov. If there is some mystical way to travel between our two separate worlds it is possibly a secret that only the people of Kirinova know.

One they might be willing to part with if you were willing to aid them as you have aided Torgov." Mikhail pointed out, feeling rather pleased with his shrewd suggestion.

Alexander Diamondclaw favored him with a very long look from his left eye.

"If the choice is between waiting here for your father to return, or going out and possibly doing something useful, well that isn't much of a choice is it?" The silver haired man answered simply.

End Chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

Monster Party Book Two: Wolves will eat your skin, if you let them in!

Chapter Six: All it takes is a spark to ignite my bad intentions.

They set out shortly after noon, Mikhail making sure to eat the heartiest lunch he could manage and pack plenty of supplies.

And so the frantic terror of the battle to save Torgov thus gave way to the dull monotony of traveling through Vorostokov. Practically everything was some shade of white with only a few brown trees not completely covered with snow to break the pattern.

Before long a horrible zilinya neshka, a terrible winter storm where it quickly became impossible for a man to see his own hand held up before his face, descended. The group managed to find some small semblance of safety when, by luck more than skill, Mikhail managed to locate an abandoned bear den for them to wait out the storm in.

As the howling of the winds grew worse however the small fire they had managed to kindle spluttered and died with an ominous speed.

"It's the Arayashka, at this rate we may not last the night..." Mikhail muttered to himself.

"The what now?" Cal reminded their guide that not all of them were familiar with the legends of Vorostokov.

"The Arayashka are the spirits of those who perished by freezing to death. Now, in death they eternally seek the warmth that evaded them in life, and will not be satisfied until they have drained it from all they encounter." Mikhail explained, his teeth starting to chatter slightly.

"Mirri?" Alexander spoke only one word and made a few quick motions with one of his gloved hands.

The dark haired woman nodded and walked out into the swirling snow with a completely blasé air. Mikhail rose to his feet with almost unseemly haste at the sight of her departure.

"Damn it all, you may be willing to send a woman out into that snow storm to face down the snow wraiths on her own but I'll not stand for it." He demanded.

Alexander stood up slowly and got a firm grip on Mikhail's shoulder.

"Miriam Kantar is our expert on all things undead. Be they bodies animated by magic, or spirits bereft of physical form there are precious few more knowledgeable than she. So kindly do not get yourself killed interfering with her work." The silver haired man suggested.

XXX XXX XXX

Mirri left the rudimentary shelter behind her and headed out into the full fury of the zilinya neshka.

Flecks of brilliant white danced around her, while still others soon began to adorn her skin and outfit. Those that managed to land upon her remained pristine for, as a vampire, she lacked the body heat to melt them.

Likewise, she lacked anything to fear, even from the storm's chill. Anything short of magic powerful enough to freeze them into a solid block of ice would find it quite difficult for cold to inconvenience the undead.

Soon enough her keen eyes picked out the sight of misty figures drifting across the snow.

"Ahoy, fellow undead!" She called out to them, though they either did not hear her or did not care.

Mirri advanced closer to the creatures until she was finally able to get a good look at them. They were humanoid enough in shape, with fully formed hands but no discernible legs or feet (just one large mass below the waist) and a head with ice blue eyes but no mouth.

"Well I guess that explains why you didn't call back to me. Tell you what since you can't speak, how about you just raise one finger for yes two for no, and I'll do most of the talking." Mirri offered.

The arayashka paid her no heed.

"Now, I'll be the first to admit that living tend to be a bunch of whiny jerks. They're always so 'I need to eat this, I need to drink that, now I need to excrete some other stuff', and they insist that their lives have meaning just because they're actually alive. Still, the group of living beings you're currently trying to chill to death happen to be frien... acquaintances of mine.

So why don't you float your way along and some other poor helpless victims to drain of heat and we'll say no more on the matter?" Mirri offered.

One of the snow wraith's raised a single finger, but Mirri had a distinct impression that this was a "no" based which finger it had chosen.

"Har de, har, har, it is to laugh. Well you know what's really funny?" Mirri began.

There was a "whoosh" as she moved through the snow elegance, and there was a slight "poof" noise as what had been an arayashka sudden became nothing more than a stain of dark colored snow.

"Death! Death is always hilarious when it happens to people…I…don't…like!" Mirri growled as she stamped upon the puddle of black slush she'd turned her opponent into.

"See one of the great things about being a vampire is that I can kick your ectoplasmic asses from here back to the Core, without needing to get fancy about it. I swing with a part of my body, and I connect as if you're made of flesh and bone.

Now then, do you five want to learn something from your friend's example? Because we can either do this the easy way or the fun way." Mirri offered.

For creatures without mouths the snow wraith's were somehow still able to utter a spectral wail as they started to circle around her.

"Fun way it is then." She reflected.

XXX XXX XXX

"So then I had a nice polite conversation with them and they realized just how much needless pain they were causing by making others suffer the same fate that they once had." Mirri explained calmly as she sat before a once again roaring fire back inside the cave.

Having concluded her story she moment to brush some darkly colored sludgy snow off of her shoulder.

"Amazing!" Mikhail gasped, scarcely able to believe that the woman had somehow managed to talk the arayashka into giving up.

Still, why would she lie? More to the point, given that they had once again been able to kindle a fire to hold back the zilinya neshka's chill there could be no doubts that the snow wraiths were no longer inflicting their icy curses upon the group.

"Well, the secret you need to understand is that deep down they're still really human. After all, they weren't born undead, they had to live a proper human life, one that typically came to an abrupt termination.

So it's just a matter of knowing how to appeal to their sense of humanity. Once you know how to do that, you can bring them around to seeing things from a more reasonable point of view.

It wasn't terribly much of a bother, not compared to the time I quite eloquently convinced a vampire to step out into the sunlight rather to continue to victimize others by drinking their blood. Even that was a great deal easier than you might expect, in the end he found my arguments quite impossible to refute." She reflected almost wistfully.

"Like Alex said, nobody knows the undead better than Mirri!" James boasted proudly.

Mikhail began to slowly unscrew the lid on one of his canteens and held it aloft proudly.

"I'll drink to that, though of course it's only water in this case..." He reflected before taking few slow sips of the stuff, not wanting to flood his system with too much ice cold fluid.

Contrary to the stories about how strong spirits would "put a fire in a man's belly" Mikhail knew that the stronger the drink the colder it would make a man's blood run. Besides, a zilinya neshka was no place to have your thoughts clouded, too many things could go wrong too easily if you were not careful during a such storm.

The other members of the group joined him in alternating between praising Mirri's abilities and once again tending the roaring fire.

XXX XXX XXX

With the fire to keep them warm the group was able to outlast the zilinya neshka and continue on their way with the rising of the sun next morning. They made good time and managed to reach the outskirts of Kirinova a little sooner than Mikhail had expected since he'd thought his outland companions would move less swiftly than they had ended up doing.

With that pleasant surprise behind them the group was just about due for an unpleasant one however. Sure enough as they crested the hill a series of howls broke out behind them.

"Why are they only showing themselves now? Wouldn't they want to attack us while we're further away from civilization?" Cal pointed out before making one of his many routine checks of Phoenix to make sure it was still in working order.

"Somehow I'm beginning to suspect that rational thought doesn't have much at all to do with our current situation." Alexander reminded him before he took off running for the town.

"If there are wolves, they won't dare come into the village proper..." Mikhail noted hopefully as he started running also.

The others followed not far behind.

XXX XXX XXX

Alexander was the first to set foot in Kirinova proper, and thus the first to discover exactly what little safety the town offered. Everywhere he looked doors were left wide open swinging listlessly in the wind, until he noticed one in particular that was still shut.

"I promise I'll pay for your new door!" Alexander half cried out to the world at large, then he braced himself against the door before dealing it a firm blow from his elbow. He could feel that the thing was starting to give way, and another strike sundered the door enough for him to force his way inside.

Instantly his nostrils were filled with the scent of death and decay.

He emerged from the home a few seconds later as the rest of the group was catching up with him.

"What did you find?" James Firecat wanted to know as he shifted back and forth trying to sneak a peek.

"James the wolves have overrun this place. What did you think I saw?" Alexander replied still somewhat shaken by the sight.

"Wait... you mean the wolves have ATTACKED the town? But, they're just wolves, they're not an army..." Their guide babbled trying to comprehend what he was being told.

"Mikhail, we don't have much time so let me put it this way, wolves would never attack a town the way that a human army would. They're not smart enough and even if they were they wouldn't think that way.

If they're not just wolves though, if there is a Loup Du Nuit in charge..." Alexander pointed out.

"So where should we go now?" Florence asked gripping her staff in preparation for a fight.

"The church we saw coming in. It's the biggest building, and if anyone is still alive they would have fled there." Devi suggested.

Alexander nodded in agreement and the group took off yet again.

When they managed to make it into the building they found still no more living occupants, but they did find one small clue.

An elderly priest lay on the church's wooden floor, his guts having been torn out by some kind of animal. Death had not come too swiftly for the old man however as he'd managed to scrawl four words in his own blood.

"Black fur... black hair..." Read a cryptic message upon the church floor.

"What does it mean?" Mikhail asked in confusion.

"Something that I already expected. A coward who will let his men do his fighting for him in one shape will do the same thing in another." Alexander answered slowly.

"I am no coward." Announced Gregor Zolnik as he entered the church.

In his wake came wolves, more and more wolves, nearly three dozen of the beasts.

"What... father what are you…how are you..." Mikhail gasped in further shock, unable to figure why Gregor wasn't still on his way back to Vorostokov let alone already in Kirinova...

"Mikhail... you calculated how fast Gregor could move if he marched like we did... but about how quickly do you think a wolf could run back to Vorostokov?" Devi suggested.

Comprehension finally dawned in Mikhail's Zolnik's eyes, and a terrible rage came with it.

"You... YOU FATHER, YOU ARE THE BLACK WOLF!" Mikhail shrieked in rage.

He was so angry that he wasn't even able to defend himself properly when one of the wolves as it raced forward and jumped on him bearing it to the ground. It snarled in warning, but did not actually try to hurt him…yet.

"You were never bright Mikhail, well meaning, but never very bright." Gregor reflected.

End Chapter Six.

AN: The Arayashka (once again don't blame me that is what they are called in the book!) or Snow Wraith's are depicted at more or less the power level from the book. They're not exactly mindless undead (they've got intelligence between 8-10 which is a bit below and right up to human norm) but they're extremely set in their ways.

They exist to drain the heat from the living, and that makes them really ineffective at fighting other undead, doubly so for ones like vampires who have DR cold on top of their normal fast healing and immunity to the strength damage that their touch would normally cause (makes sense since the str damage in this case is a representation of the body growing numb with coldness that doesn't really happen to vampires.)

So in short, the most they could hope for would be to cause Mirri to flee for about half a minute if she fails her will save, at which point she walks right back and returns to kicking them apart. So yes I didn't just cut the battle because it was funny I cut it because it was needlessly one sided, this is why unless everyone is doing it you don't let your players use vampire PCs in D&D. On the other hand Ravenloft is such a dangerous setting that Alexander wants to have someone like Mirri in the group especially because she's able to waltz through s**t like this, and you can look back at those Yeneskyy back in chapter two for another example.

Anyway, undead hijinks aside, if there's one thing that is weird about this adventure (and there isn't just one thing) it's that there's a lot fewer people running around naked than you might expect. What's stated in the book is that after being defeated in Torgov he turns into a wolf and runs back to Vorostokov, and then leads a bunch of of his boyarsky (who as you might now have realized are all werewolves who he has infected) to Kirinova and has them attack in wolf form (being infected werewolves they get no special abilities in human shape beyond some minor increased wisdom) giving them Damage Reduction insuring they're able to easily run wild over a bunch of peasants.

However by all rights, when he reveals himself to the PCs after doing this he should have nothing to wear having burst/shrunk out of his clothing when he first turned into a wolf. No matter how many werewolves an evil villain may have at their beck and call, no one is going to take them seriously if they try to threaten the party without having any clothes on.

So yeah, I can only assume that as part of his Darklord powers Gregor automatically gets the same sort of enchantment that James has on his clothing which makes it so that whenever he transforms his outfit will meld with his body rather than him ripping through or slipping out of him. That way he's able to dramatically reveal himself without needing to worry about the unintentional humor of him being nearly naked. Anyway enjoy the cliffhanger!


End file.
